Part 20 (1/2)

He insinuated that he was looking around for business prospects. This proved his open-sesame. Five years had not changed the Continental frequenters much, and Skaggs's intention immediately brought Beachfield Davis down upon him with the remark, ”If a man wants to go into business, business for a gentleman, suh, Gad, there 's no finer or better paying business in the world than breeding blooded dogs--that is, if you get a man of experience to go in with you.”

”Dogs, dogs,” drivelled old Horace Talbot, ”Beachfield 's always talking about dogs. I remember the night we were all discussing that Hamilton n.i.g.g.e.r's arrest, Beachfield said it was a sign of total depravity because his man hunted 'possums with his hound.” The old man laughed inanely. The hotel whiskey was getting on his nerves.

The reporter opened his eyes and his ears. He had stumbled upon something, at any rate.

”What was it about some n.i.g.g.e.r's arrest, sir?” he asked respectfully.

”Oh, it was n't anything much. Only an old and trusted servant robbed his master, and my theory----”

”But you will remember, Mr. Talbot,” broke in Davis, ”that I proved your theory to be wrong and cited a conclusive instance.”

”Yes, a 'possum-hunting dog.”

”I am really anxious to hear about the robbery, though. It seems such an unusual thing for a negro to steal a great amount.”

”Just so, and that was part of my theory. Now----”

”It 's an old story and a long one, Mr. Skaggs, and one of merely local repute,” interjected Colonel Saunders. ”I don't think it could possibly interest you, who are familiar with the records of the really great crimes that take place in a city such as New York.”

”Those things do interest me very much, though. I am something of a psychologist, and I often find the smallest and most insignificant-appearing details pregnant with suggestion. Won't you let me hear the story, Colonel?”

”Why, yes, though there 's little in it save that I am one of the few men who have come to believe that the negro, Berry Hamilton, is not the guilty party.”

”Nonsense! nonsense!” said Talbot; ”of course Berry was guilty, but, as I said before, I don't blame him. The negroes----”

”Total depravity,” said Davis. ”Now look at my dog----”

”If you will retire with me to the further table I will give you whatever of the facts I can call to mind.”

As un.o.btrusively as they could, they drew apart from the others and seated themselves at a more secluded table, leaving Talbot and Davis wrangling, as of old, over their theories. When the gla.s.ses were filled and the pipes going, the Colonel began his story, interlarding it frequently with comments of his own.

”Now, in the first place, Mr. Skaggs,” he said when the tale was done, ”I am lawyer enough to see for myself how weak the evidence was upon which the negro was convicted, and later events have done much to confirm me in the opinion that he was innocent.”

”Later events?”

”Yes.” The Colonel leaned across the table and his voice fell to a whisper. ”Four years ago a great change took place in Maurice Oakley. It happened in the s.p.a.ce of a day, and no one knows the cause of it. From a social, companionable man, he became a recluse, shunning visitors and dreading society. From an open-hearted, unsuspicious neighbour, he became secretive and distrustful of his own friends. From an active business man, he has become a retired brooder. He sees no one if he can help it. He writes no letters and receives none, not even from his brother, it is said. And all of this came about in the s.p.a.ce of twenty-four hours.”

”But what was the beginning of it?”

”No one knows, save that one day he had some sort of nervous attack. By the time the doctor was called he was better, but he kept clutching his hand over his heart. Naturally, the physician wanted to examine him there, but the very suggestion of it seemed to throw him into a frenzy; and his wife too begged the doctor, an old friend of the family, to desist. Maurice Oakley had been as sound as a dollar, and no one of the family had had any tendency to heart affection.”

”It is strange.”

”Strange it is, but I have my theory.”

”His actions are like those of a man guarding a secret.”

”s.h.!.+ His negro laundress says that there is an inside pocket in his unders.h.i.+rts.”

”An inside pocket?”